Flowers to Offer
by Litt
Summary: Flower language, Zuko style. Messages are delivered to Mai via a typical male gesture in a series of oneshots. Between healing and posturing, there is very little time to say goodbye.
1. Asphodel

**Flowers to Offer**

**_Asphodel  
_**Litt**  
**February 26, 07

**Asphodel yellow**: Courtship Abandoned

--

Mai understands, finally, what Azula had been smiling about at the banquet. It had not been a genuinely _happy_ smile--Mai is certain there had nothing in the general _vicinity_ of the grand hall that could have amused her friend--but it was too much to hope that it had ever been a particularly warm one, even to begin with. Especially, the now pensive girl affirms, no, _despite_ how it made her eyes sparkle and her voice all the more soft: long ago, Mai had learned that these were, in the words of her younger friend Ty Lee, "bad bad omens"; what made her dismiss them earlier eludes her. If there was anything that irritated her more than badly roasted turkey duck, her father's hints at wanting a male heir, or the stiff-backed models she was to emulate as a Lady, it was having something dangled abover her head. Azula's smile said, between pearl teeth and vicious lips, that _she_ knew something Mai did not--should have known--will know--won't like. Without her brother to pester or bear the brunt of her attacks, the princess' wrath washed out onto everyone else, anyone standing, anyone kneeling, but not Mai.

When she'd walked into her room later that afternoon, the heat stifling enough to bring sweat to her brow, her robes heavy enough to prompt her to consider changing, without the servants, before the other court members were even _expected_ to resume the parade, she'd smelled something springy, seen something delicate on her bed.

There, a surprise.

The memory of Azula's smile and the Fire Lord's cold gaze flashed by in her mind's eye and everything began to make sense.

Tucked between silk sheets, the flower told her enough: "courtship abandoned" with bright petals and a fresh, vibrant stem. Typical courtly gesture, that, saying everything through the corpse of a plant. After a moment of hesitation, she'd placed it between two leather bound scrolls in the hopes that it would become dry and, eventually, useful.

Possibly, in the gray future she isn't so sure about any more, the shriveled blossom will signal the start of healing on her part, the beginning of independence. Or. It will remind her that this unfair event too will pass; without the promise, without her betrothed fit to accept her, all the flower could offer her was the stale facts: she had no reason to be accepted in the palace and therefore no reason to stay within what was left of the family circle. She had no reason to feel safe, save the princess--which was saying **volumes** all its own.

Azula tells her it's time, links arms, and pulls, saying this is all for the best.

Mai should sigh, _fear_ for her future even. Abandon courtship. You're alone now; you're free. Tucked between silk sheets.

Clutching a yellow asphodel, resolving never to let Azula goad her into anything, Mai takes part in the ceremony of banishment, her only duty now being to watch Zuko leave for the docks.

--

**AN**: There was a list of flowers and their meanings that was posted near Valentine's day. I copied it. I'm using them as prompts because they're cool like that. The series—_Flowers to Offer_—may not focus on just one fandom; it will focus on romance (or lack of thereof). This one also answers the question of Mai's immunity to Azula's threats, or maybe just her resolve. Her character has been kept somewhat downplayed so far and in my book that means she'll be important later on. In my version, the "break up" is justified and not entirely their fault; Zuko spares her a public display/closure with a subtle gift he knows she'll get--I figure she's the type of girl who would, anyway.

I'm only posting this because it's semi-done and I felt the need to be somewhat daring. I have to research the flower before I go off pimping Maiko & Mailu all over the place. Based on popular assumption that Mai was betrothed to Zuko at one point in time—or, at the very least, childhood games of pretend must be abandoned in the face of war (long distance relationships don't start off well, do they?)

**ETA**: Written way before the end of the second season finale. Should this be a series?


	2. Marigold

**French marigold**: Separation

This time there's a note to go with it and Mai is fairly sure she's sick of goodbyes. She can stomach this just as much as she can endure Ty Lee's pitiful tries at empathy every time Zuko does something stupid, but it still brings about a sick swoop of acid to her tongue and a bitter drizzle of sweat to her brow, back, and palms which, too quickly to blame on a breeze, leaves her cold.

He didn't even bother to put the scroll out of sight, so of course she ignores the annoying swoon in her stomach that says she should not be surprised. For a day, at least, she would like to have the ability to doubt the prince. At least this way she can react the way she's supposed to.

She takes her time undressing, eyeing her bed with a passive form of contempt. It's been a week and none of the servants had come by to take the damn thing away: it sits there, waiting for her to cut the ribbon, break the seal, and…what? It's been a week, but it only took two days for the summons to arrive at her aunt's door and it only took one look at the princess to know it was probably best she hadn't been anywhere near the palace that day. All the same, she needs to know what he has to say for himself, if only to prove the Fire Lord's taunting tale wrong.

Rather than open it right away, she tries to picture the events that led him to break into her room (again) and leave it on the pillow in favor of telling her before hand. It's almost cowardly, but so is holding an innocent scroll over a candle.

The flower goes by unnoticed for the first read-through; by the second, she realizes what she'd been twisting are leaves and the softness she'd been pressing between her fingers are petals. They have half-moon bruises that turn a darker pigmant and almost appear to become transparant and Mai is sick. The colors are a riot next to the varying reds in her room and, while they _could_ remind her of Zuko's eyes, the bruises and the veins do not scratch or tear away to reveal yellow or gold, do not prove to be anything but what she saw and could not believe she'd ignored.

She _hates_ orange. She guesses that's the point.

**AN**: Based on "The Invasion" I believe and a parallel to Asphodel.


	3. Dahlia

**Flowers to Offer  
**Litt

**Dahlia**_--Recognition; Elegance and Dignity._

It's been a while since the first "date" but it hasn't been long enough since the last one for Zuko to completely forgive himself. Mai is more than willing to let it fade into the past—she cannot stand dwelling on things she cannot change—but her boyfriend has taken to occasional bouts of (what he hopes to be) redemption-prompting shows of affection.

The festivals are admittedly beautiful, from a distance; Mai lets him hold her hand and wins him prize from a dart throwing tent without letting go. This is more of a challenge for her own sake than anything affectionate and she likes to think the vague smile Zuko had at the time was something akin to a challenge as well. The cakes are more than often delicious: she only indulges in them occasionally, when he offers; once he finds out her favorite flavor, the offers are as consistent as nuzzles, both of which she invariably rebuffs based on principle. Having everything at his disposal, he still doesn't get the beauty that is moderation, a trait Mai has come to think is the main source of his newfound generosity: he gives because he can and she sees it at its rawest form rather than the veiled, sometimes unconscious, sincerity everyone _else_ sees. It's this genuine _want_ that gets to her eventually.

Ever persistent, Zuko pursues as many as three avenues aimed at forgiveness a day. She's given up wondering why he is still trying: she'd never told him she blames him for anything other than that night. During her brief periods alone—but sometimes in the midst of another surprise, which is awful because it's at those times she has to mask her wavering with bemusement—Mai has to wonder why she's letting it carry on. It's not that she likes being put on the spot, even when they are alone: she does not know how to react, always comes off as indifferent or embarrassed and any tries at assurance usually turn him sour or too loud to bear.

The gifts, she tells him, will not work with her, but she doesn't give them back: they accumulate around her manor and several of the distasteful ones are bequeathed to an enthusiastic TomTom. Ty Lee comes by one day to ask if she still hates the colors orange, lime, and why Zuko didn't know this. A day later, she ceremoniously rejects the jewelry and orders the terrified servant tell the Prince whatever he wanted.

Court life is one she assumed she always fell back on, nestling back into the monotony that is Faking It. These are the times Zuko tries his hand at subtlety, an amusing show that usually falls short somewhere in the department of tact, but it's later into the month when she hears wind from an irritated Princess that he's planning something drastic. Something public.

Horrified, she claims sickness and stays away from the palace for a few days, rejects his visits. All the solitude and meditation she wallowed in should have made his eventual barging in less of a surprise than it was. Zuko, being too proud to have the grace to apologize for the singed door, and Mai, far too irritated to sugar coat it, argue for an abrupt three minutes before initiating, with quiet curses, the Long, Quiet Week Apart. Though she'd claimed to feel suffocated by his superficial, insecure, artificial begging, she hadn't been able to tell him that it wasn't his feeble or adorable failings that bothered her. He might have been better off hearing that but she figures he should have known her better than use new, obviously unsuccessful means to bring about something established.

The flower that shows up via a terrified servant is the last straw but, at this point, she's not sure if she's frustrated enough to carry on. She accepts the gift but does not examine in until she is alone. At least this time it's not a Forget-Me-Not, though she would have settled for it.

--

**AN**: At the time, I was one of the impatient people who had resorted to using the internet to watch episodes (ahead of schedule) and, out of courtesy to the Faithful and by unwritten Fandom Rule, squeed silently. Though both were nearly done by then, I'd refrained from posting them until I was sure everyone, in all countries, had a chance to watch them. I believe said episode for this one was "The Beach". Not really happy with it. Too much summary, I think, and it lacks some kind of grace that I attribute with Maiko. I guess this is very much in tune with the show as I find I can't stand them together after reading it, but can't find anything wrong in it. I'll stop rushing.


End file.
